Because He Makes Her Mixtapes
by beezyland
Summary: There's something about him. She doesn't have to put on this I'm The National Champion, Respect Me show. She's just a girl sitting with a boy who thinks she has bad taste in music. Kaylie/Damon


Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Sucks for y'all. :P

* * *

><p><strong>Because He Makes Her Mixtapes <strong>

"Repeat after me. I'm Kaylie Cruz and I'm musically mute."

"I'm Kaylie Cruz and I'm musically mute."

Kaylie can barely keep a straight face as she says it, breaking down in laughs that mix in with Damon's low chuckles. They're both sitting on a blanket laid out on the floor of the Cruz home recording studio. She's sitting crossed-legged and Damon is lying on his stomach in front of his laptop. She's barefoot and he's just in his socks (the left one has a hole in it so she can see part of his big toe) and there's something oddly intimate about it.

"Nirvana? Kurt Cobain?" he asks.

"I know _of_ them and him. I mean, I've heard the names before."

"But you've never listened to any of their stuff?"

"That would be a no."

"Well, fear not, friend. I am hooking you up," Damon says, scrolling down through his thousands of songs on iTunes. "Pearl Jam? R.E.M? Red Hot Chili Peppers?"

"Oh! The last one," Kaylie says excitedly. At least one of these bands (at least she's assuming they're bands) sounds somewhat familiar to her. "They sing that one song about California and someone named Danny, right?"

Damon looks at her from over his shoulder, having to take a moment to assess whether she's joking or not. Of course, she's not and can't hide that. Kaylie just keeps her hands in her lap and raises her shoulders, smiling bashfully.

"I'm choosing not to answer that," Damon says. "So what _do_ you listen to?"

"You know, high energy electro pop. Billboard top 100. Stuff like that."

"Stuff you do your gymnastics routines to?"

"Basically." Damon laughs and Kaylie pokes her lips out to show that she doesn't enjoy him teasing her. "What? You've met my mom. Since you're this music snob hipster guy you must have heard something by Ronnie Cruz. That's the kind of music I grew up with so naturally it's what I like and listen to and you are totally judging me right now!"

"No, I'm not judging. I think it's cute," he says. Kaylie gets that feeling when she's about to start blushing and the way he stares at her with such intensity only makes her face feel even hotter. "Wait, did you just call me a music snob hipster?"

Kaylie laughs. She knows he's only doing all of this to try to cheer her up especially after how she broke down outside Maeve's funeral and left him to pick up her broken pieces. It scares her maybe just a little how comfortable she can be around him and in such a short amount of time. There's something about him. She doesn't have to put on this I'm The National Champion, Respect Me show. She's just a girl sitting with a boy who thinks she has bad taste in music.

The disk drive ejects and Damon carefully lifts the CD out. He grabs the nearby Sharpie and scrawls 80s/90s Popular And Not Horrible across the face. He adds it to the other five CDs: The Classics, British Invasion, Indie/You Will Never Hear on the Radio Ever, About to be Mainstream and the Musical Stylings of Damon Young. Kaylie smiles. The mix of his own music was the first one he made for her.

"Alright," he says. "I didn't make these for no reason. There's going to be a pop quiz next time I see you."

"I'll put them on my iPod the next chance I get," Kaylie assures him.

"Wait. iPod?"

"How else do you expect me to listen to these?"

"A CD Player maybe?" Damon replies.

"Sorry," Kaylie says unsympathetically. "I don't own one. I don't think I know anyone who still owns one."

"No way. I made you actual, tangible mixtapes with my very surprisingly readable handwriting on them. You can't just put them on your iPod and throw the CDs away," Damon says. Suddenly, he sits up and starts pulling his shoes on. Kaylie watches him and doesn't move. "We are going to get you a CD Player."

"They still sell those?"

Damon laughs again, looking straight at her and Kaylie hears, sees and feels _cute_. He scrambles to his feet and grabs his keys from off the end table before turning to her and holding out a hand. Kaylie takes it and he pulls her to her feet. She slips on her sandals and they're out the door.

They pass Ronnie on the way out and she has the biggest smile on her face when Kaylie says they're going out for a little bit. Kaylie knows Ronnie is only happy that she's getting out and eating right and starting to get back on track, but sometimes Kaylie gets the feeling that Ronnie thinks there's more going on with Damon and that's plain ridiculous. They're just friends. Kaylie doesn't think she can handle more even if she wanted it.

He drives her to Target and Damon insists on getting one of those red shopping carts even though they're only getting one thing. He kicks off the ground and stands on the bar right under the cart, sailing down the empty aisles. He urges her to get in the cart, but she refuses. He says they aren't leaving until she at least tries and eventually she gives in and skates the cart down the outdoors aisle, laughing the entire time. It's funny because he's supposed to be this up and coming music genius and she's National Champion and they're playing around in a Target, about to get kicked out. Their responsibilities and their futures and their problems—none of it matters. They're just two kids having a laugh.

Kaylie is genuinely surprised that they actually do sell CD players in the electronic department and Damon insists he buy it for her. It's the least he can do when she's letting him use her recording studio and she helped him find his inspiration and work through the writer's block. Damon even insists on buying her the $29.99 one with the FM tuner instead of the $14.99 standard one. Such a gentleman. He pays for it and they get into his car, but then realize they can't get it open so they run back inside to buy a pair of scissors.

"If batteries weren't included I would have lost it," Damon says. He's cutting around the edges of the plastic that encases the CD player while they sit in his car in the Target parking lot.

"You know, we have scissors back at my house."

"Shh. Where's your spontaneity, Kaylie Cruz?" Damon says. Kaylie keeps quiet and tries to hide her laughter, watching Damon battle with the getting it open. Eventually, Kaylie ends up scooping it out of his hands and doing it herself, making it look so simple when he struggled with it for so long. While she's getting the batteries in, Damon rummages through the compartment between them, pulling out a sticker of his initials in a grungy font. "Prototype merch. The first of its kind. And I say you have to stick it on because I bought it."

"Oh, so you had an ulterior motive, huh?"

"You caught me."

Kaylie peels back the paper from the sticker and smoothes it over the front of her silver CD Player that's definitely heavier and bulkier than her iPod, but something about Damon's enthusiasm over this and his insistence makes it special. "There. Happy? It is now branded."

"Perfect. Take care of it as if it were a child," Damon instructs, so very serious. "A child, Kaylie."

"I get it, Damon," Kaylie says. She inserts a CD (the one of his music) and sticks a bud in her ear before hitting play. He watches her, nearly on the edge of his seat, like he's waiting for her approval of his favorite ice cream or his favorite movie and he makes her feel like her opinion matters. Not everyone has that effect on her. "I love it. Thank you, Damon. For this and for everything."

"It was nothing. You helped me just as much. Honestly, when Emily said you'd let me use your studio, I didn't think we'd actually become friends, but I'm glad we did," he says. Kaylie nods to show she feels the same. "Now, repeat after me. I am Kaylie Cruz and I am no longer musically mute."

"I'm Kaylie Cruz and I am no longer musically mute," she says proudly. Then adds, "thanks to Damon Young."

Damon smiles kindly and Kaylie smiles back.

That trip to Target and the mixes he made her are locked away in memories both hold so dear. They're memories they wrote into their history before Emily's pregnancy came to light and Austin deemed Kaylie stable enough to swoop in and begin wooing again. They have that moment in that parking lot before a kiss in the moment broke everything.

**-XX-**

Coming home from Worlds, Alex and Ronnie greet Kaylie with enthusiasm and congratulations and hugs. She's never felt more alive or more proud of herself. It isn't even about the medal. It's about her and everything she's accomplished. Once the excitement dies down and her parents urge her to get some rest, Kaylie can't sleep and considers unpacking her bags, but then she spots a package on the table near the telephone. It's square and has a return address from Vegas. Kaylie rushes over and takes it, fingers trembling ever so slightly as she tear through the seal.

Inside is a mixtape. No fancy artwork. No label on the disk. He wants the music to speak for itself.

Completely dismissing the idea of unpacking and leaving her phone in her purse (even though she promised Austin she'd call him after dinner) Kaylie digs through her backpack for her CD player. The Musical Stylings of Damon Young CD is what got her to wind down at night in Rio and his About to be Mainstream got her pumped right before competitions.

Holding the CD player as if it really is a baby, Kaylie takes it down to the dark, untouched recording studio downstairs. She shuts and locks the door and lays out a blanket on the ground just like they would do when she'd come down to visit him and he'd take breaks to hang out with her. Kaylie sits on the floor and traces her fingers over the D and the Y on the sticker the spans the face of her CD player.

She tries not to, but she misses him. Spending time with someone like that, connecting with someone who understands you, is impossible to erase. Kaylie has tried and failed.

It almost feels like a lifetime ago when they'd hang out in her basement and talk about music and write songs together. Things were so different, so much simpler, contained in the walls of their studio. Not a day goes by where she doesn't think about him, about what they had and about what they won't ever have.

Carefully, Kaylie puts the CD in the player, closes it tight and presses play.

She nearly tears up when she listens to the lyrics and finds one common thread interwoven in the mix, sending her a message loud and clear.

_The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door have been silenced forever more  
>The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row<br>It seems farther than ever before  
>Oh no.<em>

_I need you so much closer…_

A week goes by and another mixtape comes. The week after that, another mix shows up with the mail. She receives another and another until Kaylie has a nice collection and even drives to Target on her own to buy a case for them all. Every single one is just as thoughtful and gut wrenching as the first five he made her. These olive branches and peace offerings continue to come in plastic disk form and Kaylie knows no CD she can ever burn will be as great as the ones he makes for her. She doesn't even try. She calls him instead.

As the phone rings, Kaylie twists the corner of the blanket around and around her finger and stares up at the recording studio ceiling. Part of her is desperate to hear his voice, to know he's okay, find out what happened with Emily and the baby since they all left Boulder. The other part of her is ready to chicken out and hang up. She stays on the line because she needs this as much as he wants it. She needs to tell him about how the recording studio feels so much colder and emptier without him, though all of her is certain he already does.

"Hello? It's Damon."

She forces out a breath, inhales and says, "I'm Kaylie Cruz and I really, really miss my music snob hipster friend, Damon Young."

Damon laughs this rough, exhausted laugh and Kaylie smiles because she can hear it in that little sound alone. _Cute_.

* * *

><p><span>AN: I wrote this in, like, two hours because I just needed to write something and ended up with this. What'd you think? No haters need review, though constructive criticism and other comments are welcomed!

xoxo


End file.
